The Rise And Fall
by Kary Starr
Summary: Harry is on his way to beginning his fifth year at Hogwarts but must confront all trials of doom and anguish; however, when he realizes his feelings from a certain someone, everything falls apart…
1. Prolouge

Title: The Rise and Fall

Author: Kary Starr

Rating: PG-13/R (yaoi)

Summary: Harry is on his way to beginning his fifth year at Hogwarts but must confront all trials of doom and anguish; however, when he realizes his feelings from a certain someone, everything falls apart…

Pairings: Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione

Email: sailorfreak6@yahoo

Categories: Angst, Romance

****

The Rise and Fall: Prologue

~*~*~*~

Harry Potter lay awake; his brilliant green eyes wide open despite the fact that it was just beginning on three in the morning. He'd been lying there for what seemed like twenty minutes, after awakening from his nightmare to the point of sitting straight up in bed, resisting the urge to scream. He'd bolted awake, staring at the bare, unkempt walls of his bedroom covering his mouth in vein.

The same pictures haunted his thoughts through the day and controlled his head throughout the night. No matter what he did, those pictures never seemed to go away. Ever since last summer, when Voldemort had risen and nearly killed him…Harry shook his head, willing these pictures shooting through his mind to leave him. His mum and dad coming back, out of the wand…watching, as Cedric died without him trying to stop it, as the breath was simply sucked out of his body…dodging the Cruciatus Curse and the Killing Curse…and all the while, Voldemort was standing there, laughing, after he'd risen….

"No," said Harry aloud, cupping his shaking hands to his head and squeezing his eyes shut, "I won't have it! I want these memories to go away!" Oh, what Harry would give for someone to obliviate these memories! He swung his legs over the side of his bed, and felt his bare feet hit the cold floor. His hands cradled his head, and his untidy black hair fell into his face. Without even realizing it, his face soon became wet with tears. Harry and stood up, feeling for the first time the breeze that raced through his cousin's old room and onto his bare back. Opening the door cautiously, he glanced down the moonlit hallways and creaked into the bathroom. Harry splashed his face with cool water, and put his hands at the edge of the basin, letting his face drip into the sink.

Moving swiftly back into his room, he put his glasses on and sat at the edge of his bed, his hands on his knees. "What am I going to do…?" he said softly. He'd tried to talk to someone about it, but the words never came out right. Harry didn't think he could express what was raging inside his mind, let alone know that someone else could understand what he was thinking.

He'd tried a letter to Ron once. Ron Weasley was one of his best friends at Hogwarts. After their jealousy dispute last year, however, when Ron felt that Harry got too much attention and Ron always was shoved aside, Harry felt like he couldn't truly tell him much anymore. His red haired friend just would not understand.

Besides, it wasn't like Ron was free this summer, anyway. One of the few letters he'd received from Ron was that all of the "boys"—and there were six Weasley boys, not counting Mr. Weasley himself—on a trip to Romania, to visit one of the elder brothers Charlie. Ron said it was all about "breaking Fred and George's spirit for hi-jinxes, seeing as it's their last year at school." Along with Ron, Fred and George (they were the twins) was Bill, on vacation from his Gringotts job, and Percy, who had been unemployed since the incident last summer.

Harry would have also liked to send post to Hermione Granger, his other best friend. But she was no where to be found this summer, either. After her second letter, she asked Harry not to send her post, because she doubted Hedwig, his owl, would find her. She, along with her family, was on holiday traveling with the Krum family, which included her boyfriend Viktor. "As much as I love post, Harry," she had written, "I don't think Viktor would appreciate it. I think you can manage one summer without me, can't you Harry? Besides, you've got Ron, too." Harry also thought that, even if she weren't on holiday, Hermione would never understand what was going on. For being the cleverest witch in their year, Hermione was awfully slow on the uptake.

That didn't leave Harry many options. He could post to Sirius Black, his godfather who was a convict on the run, but Harry didn't want to both him. Sirius was away for business about Voldemort himself, along with Remus Lupin and what Dumbledore, his school headmaster, called "the old crowd." Hagrid, who was the groundkeeper at Hogwarts, his school, was away for the summer himself, gathering supporters to "the cause."

So, without anyone to understand or really, for that matter, talk to, Harry was left to these thoughts all alone. They tormented him during the day; Harry was to the point when his cousin, Dudley, beat him up he didn't even fight back anymore. Everything had lost its flavor. The Dursleys, despite what he'd gone through, were as dense as a two-by-four. Aunt Petunia was as nagging as ever, constantly on him for his untidy appearance and making him do the bulk of the work for no pay and even less food. Uncle Vernon had resorted to physical punishment most of the time himself—apparently, the whole Sirius Black immunity deal had stopped working for him. If he wasn't being taunted by Dudley, or ordered by Aunt Petunia, he was getting the living daylights beat out of him by his uncle.

The only thing that got him through this all was probably the fact that he was returning to Hogwarts soon. Harry had just turned fifteen the previous month, and was only three days away from catching the Hogwarts Express. With Ron being gone most of the summer, and Hermione as well, Harry had no idea how he was going to get to the train station. Asking the Dursleys was about as safe as running with scissors. The previous three years he'd gotten a lift from Ron. But, somehow not surprisingly to Harry, no letters from Mrs. Weasley inviting him—he'd yet to go to Diagon Alley, as well.

Harry leaned back on his elbows. It made his stomach hurt in anticipation that he wasn't going to be returning to Hogwarts this year. Not unless someone comes up with an idea to get him out of here... Glancing across the room, he watching his owl, Hedwig, sleeping peacefully, with the occasional small "hoot" every now and then. His letter from Hogwarts sat on his dresser in between Dudley's old things, which found their way into Harry's room over the school year. His spellbooks and school supplies lay in his closet. This was a miracle in itself; if it hadn't have been for the Dursleys to be out for the afternoon, Harry would have never had enough time to pick the lock and drag his luggage upstairs without being noticed. He doubted the Dursleys even knew.

So, Harry lay there, mentally and physically exhausted with purple and red marks up and down his malnutrition torso; his homework done, and his Hogwarts school supplies yet to be bought; feeling quite lonely and anxious. Lying down, he tried to fall asleep again. However, his attempts were futile. His eyes burned with sleep when they were open and burned with sleep when they were closed.

The sinking feeling became more prominent in his stomach. Laying his hand on his abdomen, his tried to calm himself down. Harry felt his perhaps his worst nightmare had just come true.

Closing his eyes, Harry realized all he needed was Voldemort to appear on his street within the next three days, and then he would be quite satisfied he was in hell.

~*~*~*~

"Wake up, boy!" a voice roared outside his door, a pounding noise to match the headache that Harry was now getting. "Now!"

Harry's eyes flew open. He must have fallen back asleep, and looking at the clock, it was about seven-thirty. All Harry wanted to do was roll over and fall back asleep. His glasses were still on his face, and they felt like plaster on his skin. Harry cursed his uncle silently, and got up, pulling on a shirt. "Coming, Uncle Vernon!" he said back, quietly seething.

"Hurry up, boy! You're wasting time, I want my breakfast," he barked, giving one last bang on the door before storming downstairs.

Harry held his head up, until the world stopped spinning. His stomach growled threateningly, and Hedwig hooted angrily from Vernon's loud bangs. "Ah, Hedwig," Harry said smoothly, rushing to her cage, "Hedwig, you've got to be quiet, or Vernon'll fillet you. Shh." Harry put his hands up to the cage and tried to get her to understand him. He could hear Vernon's voice in his head boom from downstairs already: "That ruddy owl!" Harry made another "shhing" sound, quickly trying to calm her.

Finally, after a final hoot, she'd shut up; just as Harry could hear Dudley crawl out of bed and flop his way down the stairs. "Oh, great," he muttered. "Hedwig, we might not get supper, thanks," he said angrily, and rushed out the door and down the stairs.

"Where's my breakfast, boy?" Vernon said loudly. Harry hastily threw toast in the toaster and pulled out the frying ban, putting on four eggs.

"Coming, Uncle Vernon," he repeated, prodding the eggs with a spatula and checking the toaster. Stifling a yawn, he put the lid on the eggs and caught the toast as they popped out; buttered the four slices and put them on his plate. A sizzling noise told Harry the eggs were done, and beginning to burn.

Flipping them onto the plate as well, Harry set the plate in front of Vernon, who was reading the newspaper with a cup of coffee in his hands. He'd managed in it record time. Harry wiped his brow with the back of his hand, began to clean the dirty dishes, and heard his stomach protest the smell of the enticing food.

"Petunia had something for you to do this morning," he said spitefully. "I daresay it will take all day." Harry felt himself get a little angry at his uncle's malicious tormenting. Vernon's sneer was not hidden, however, from his big black mustache and seemed to magnify it, if anything. It was like he was back in school, in Potions with that damned Professor Snape, who always took delight in Harry's misery, and had a secret ambition to get Harry expelled.

Walking down the hallway (which was plastered with pictures of Dudley, his oversized cousin) Harry thought again of Hogwarts. Only two more days until he was supposed to get on the train, and he'd yet to figure a way to get to Diagon Alley. That anxious feeling overcame him again, as he entered the sitting room.

Harry stood there, waiting for Petunia to start barking orders at him again. Petunia was a horse-faced woman with a terrible spite of him; she hated magic in any form and was not afraid to show it. Over the course of the year she'd gotten, if anything, more bitter.

"You!" Petunia snapped, seeing him standing there. "You've got outside today." She ran her finger down the mantel as she was talking, inspecting dust from Harry's previous day's work. Dissatisfied with finding none there, she pushed past him and out of the room. Apparently, Harry must have known what outdoors meant. Glancing out the window, he saw that it was an overcast day, but it was going to be humid as hell.

"Oh great," Harry muttered under his breath, going upstairs to change. Glancing in the mirror, his reflection stared back at him: his tousled black hair, which never seemed to stay put but it simply refused to grow; his green eyes, which were overshadowed by the dark rings under them; and his tall, lean stature, which was glowing purple in various spots. Harry touched a particularly large bruise on his chest, and winced. He looked really bad. How was this all supposed to go away before Hogwarts? Won't people notice those spots on his arms and legs?

Pulling on a white shirt and a pair of fairly large jeans (like the Dursleys would buy clothes that fit him, let alone they should be new. Harry suspected that these were Dudley's old jeans; the legs were a little short and the waist was so large that it bulked up on one side when he put a belt on). Then he set off to clean the yard.

~*~*~*~

The ending of August meant more leaves and more rain. The grass was particularly long, and took him a good part of three hours to mow and rake up the piles of cut grass. When Harry got indoors around four, it seemed that he hadn't done enough. After a cold shower (because Dudley had used all the warm water and Petunia was screeching at him for his filth) he'd changed and went downstairs, only to find more work. When Harry got into bed that night, he was absolutely tired.

However exhausted he may be, the dread was continuing to grow. Harry knew he could not stay here any longer; it would be the death of him (his stomach grumbled loudly. He'd not gotten any food today, either. Harry wondered, could people waste away?) Harry also knew that if he used any magic, he'd be expelled, and that fact alone is what kept his wand safely in the bottom of his trunk. Imagine what it would be like to be expelled, and live here year-round? It'd been nearly five years since he'd attended Muggle school, and he doubted very much that he'd be able to continue with it.

Tomorrow the Dursleys were going out for the afternoon. Harry, as he lay there thinking anxious thoughts, began to wonder briefly why the hell he needed to remain here. Could he just get up and leave?

He hoped. Because with that revered decision, Harry knew that he was getting out of here—one way, or another.


	2. Escape

Title: The Rise and Fall

Author: Kary Starr

Rating: PG-13/R (yaoi)

Summary: Harry is on his way to beginning his fifth year at Hogwarts but must confront all trials of doom and anguish; however, when he realizes his feelings from a certain someone, everything falls apart…

Pairings: Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione

Email: sailorfreak6@yahoo

Categories: Angst, Romance

****

The Rise and Fall: Chapter One

"Escape"

~*~*~*~

Harry stood by the door, his insides jumping around in his stomach. The Dursleys were bustling down the hall, making their way to the car.

Vernon was the last one out. "Listen boy, this house had better be here when I get back. Any messes—any at all—and you'll be out of anything to eat for the next week!" Harry stared back at him. He'd already been without proper food for the last three months.

Harry said nothing, and Vernon walked out the door, slamming it behind him. Harry waited until they were out of sight before he rushed upstairs and dragged everything out of his closet. He opened Hedwig's cage, and spoke to her briefly. "Hedwig, I'm going to go to London. It will already look odd if I come there with you, so you can go now. I'll—I'll be there." He hoped.

Hedwig gave an affectionate nip at his finger and lifted her wings, flying out the window. Harry did not watch her go, though. Shoving Hedwig's cage in the trunk (which was empty of the books he required this year) he pulled out his wand. Making heavy and loud noises, he got the trunk to the bottom of the staircase.

He stuck his wand inside the pocket of his jacket. He stuck a long piece of metal inside the ends his trunk (he'd managed to forge two holes on each side of the ends of his trunk last night, with a steak knife that he'd picked up after washing the dishes). Then he stuck two wheels at the end (from Dudley's scattered old toys lying about his room), and his found that the old fashioned trunk could roll.

Opening the door, he stepped cautiously outside. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon. Closing the door behind him, Harry made his way down the driveway, and with the tieback from his bathrobe, rolled the trunk into the street.

It would have been more convenient if Harry had some Muggle money; a taxi could take him to London in no time. Harry laughed inwardly. Muggle money—it'd been a very long time since he'd seen any of _that_.

What else could he do? Harry touched his chin thoughtfully, and continued to walk down the street. He let his mind drift…until he came to what he'd thought of the night before. What about the Knight Bus—could he use that again? How did the Knight Bus work, anyway? Did it pick you up, just at night? Was he required to do any spells? The last time he used "_Lumos!_" But Stan, the driver's friend, had only spoke about sticking your wand out.

Harry hesitated a second. It was closing afternoon. Would anyone see him? Harry decided to wait until night fell before he'd test his theory. The last thing he needed was for some Muggle to see him pull out his wand, and get expelled from Hogwarts.

With the tieback in hand, Harry dragged the somewhat light trunk down the street. Melancholy and despair washed over him. The elated feeling of escaping close hell had ebbed away. Now there was fear. What if he couldn't find a way to make it to Hogwarts in time? He could have posted Dumbledore, his headmaster, of his situation but then he realized that maybe, he shouldn't bother him.

About this time tomorrow, he'd be on his way to Hogwarts. Harry felt another pang of anxiety. The train picked him up at eleven o'clock in the morning. By the time he'd arrive there, that would mean he'd have about two hours to get all the school things he needed. And that included a stop at Gringotts, the wizarding bank in Diagon Alley. Harry sighed in frustration. It was going to be a close call.

It was edging into six o'clock now. Harry wondered what the Dursleys would say, once they found their house empty of one certain nephew. He doubted they'd even noticed, except now they'd have to get up and do things themselves.

He was entering the small town the Dursleys lived near. Sighing, he rolled his cart through the near-deserted town and continued his way down the street. Everyone was inside; it was, after all, Sunday afternoon before the first day of school. However, those that were out gave him odd looks. Used to this, of course, Harry just trudged his way through the town, determined to stick it out until nightfall.

While he was walking, though, he was in very deep thought. Harry never liked to be caught deep in thought these days, because usually his mind drifted over to a peculiar green light that had a tendency to suck the life out of people; for instance, the once that killed his parents, and the one that killed Cedric last summer. No, finally his thoughts were drifted over to something a little more positive.

He was finally out of the Dursleys, and no doubt he was finding himself in a better position than he was before. He still couldn't take deep breaths (the welt across his chest must have broken a rib or two) but he knew that it was going to get better, to say the very least. Trained up for Quidditch, the sport played on broomstick that Harry found himself to be very good at, was no problem. The Dursleys starving him kept his weight down (albeit, even Harry doubted his ribs were supposed to stick out like they did) and all the physical labor he was put to kept him in right shape. The envelope that was tucked in his bag held the little shiny badge of becoming a Prefect, in which Harry was very much proud of (although he would never admit this to anyone). Hermione, of course, was the other Prefect this year for Gryffindor—Harry had no doubt of that.

The sun was finally setting over the horizon, sending a blood red line of sky into the fading light. Harry found himself becoming more tired with each step (he'd been traveling for a long time now) and realized that, if he did not find a way to get to London fast, there was very little chance that he'd be catching the train tomorrow.

He reached inside his jacket, and extracted his wand. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple, he'd carried this wand since he got it in Ollivander's just five years ago. Directing his luggage to the side, Harry stuck out his wand, and waited. He felt a bit silly, standing there, hoping that the Knight Bus did not need to require more when Harry heard a loud crack and there was a flash of light, causing him to shy away, covering his eyes.

When he opened them, the door was open to the Knight Bus. It was, however, not the Knight Bus he'd ridden before. This one was a purple color with stars and moons painted in white all over the sides. Beneath the first floor of windows were the words in a glittering shade of gold "The Knight Bus," and in the corner, "698." It was very well kept at least, Harry noted.

"Where to?" the voice from inside said. Harry looked in, and saw it was covered in a shade of deep maroon carpeting, very neat and clean. He pulled his trunk up to the door and stuck his head in, looking for the source of the voice.

"London, please," he said clearly. "Diagon Alley."

There was a yanking force from behind him as someone came around to take care of his luggage. "I'll take that," the young man said kindly. "Step aboard please. We've got a ways to go." He was dressed in a tidy purple robe, and wore a nametag that said, "Calvin."

"Thanks," Harry said, watching him roll off with his light trunk. Turning, Harry reached in and grabbed the brass rail, hoisting himself in. He stepped up the three stairs and looked around.

Neatly in two rows were seven beds that lined the length of the bus, each one complete with a small night table that was bolted securely to the floor, as well as the beds. Each bed had a flawless white sheet with a purple blanket at each end. There were only three people occupying the beds, however; a young woman roughly his age, next to another girl, only slightly older, both sleeping soundly and a middle-aged man whom Harry felt he ought to know but couldn't place who exactly he was, also sleeping.

"Quiet night," the man at the wheel said. "What can I do for you, laddie? Diagon Alley, you said?" He was a thin man with balding hair and a stately nature, wearing the same color robe as the other worker Calvin and peering at Harry through small circle spectacles.

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "How much is that? My money—it's in my trunk."

The man waved his hand. "You pay when you get off. It'll be fourteen Sickles for the trip, but fifteen for a cup of something warm with it." He pointed to the bed across the aisle one of the girls. "That'll be your bed, son. Say, what is your name, anyway?"

Harry turned to the man. "It's Harry—Harry Potter."

The man smiled widely. "Is it now? Well, that's something." Calvin, the other worker, had just arrived back, and took a seat behind the driver.

"Sorry 'bout that Daniel," said Calvin quietly, picking up the paper that was lying on his seat and flipping it open. "One of the other bags from that girl," he pointed vaguely to the redhead fast asleep, "flew open down there, and her belongings were all over the place."

"No problem, Calvin," he said, putting the bus in gear. "You might want to take a seat, Potter," the driver said. "This is one of the better buses, but it'll send you flying if you're not seated."

Harry nodded, knowing only too well how the Knight Buses act, and walked over to his bed, sitting on the linen sheets. He felt the hard jerk forward, and then the bus fell into a steady rhythm.

Finally, he was going to get to Hogwarts. Even the Dursleys couldn't stop him now, like they've been trying to do all summer. Harry smiled, leaning back on the comfortable bed. Unlike his bed at the Dursleys, there was no springs poking out at odd angles, and the sheets were not threadbare. It was a pleasant change.

The bus's clock rang gently eight o'clock. The rocking of the bus and the chimes of the wall clock lulled Harry to sleep, who finally dreamt not of Voldemort, but blissfully of nothing else.

~*~*~*~

"Diagon Alley, next stop," Calvin said, shaking Harry awake. "Wake up, sir."

Harry opened his eyes, feeling groggy and disoriented. "Wha—?" he said softly. "Already?"

"Yes, sir," he said, handing Harry a steaming mug of cocoa. "This is for you."

Harry, who was still on top of the sheets, shifted so he was sitting up, leaning on one elbow. "How much longer have we got until we reach London?" asked Harry quietly. He saw they've must have stopped a couple of times. The middle-aged man was gone, and the girl next to the redhead was gone as well.

The remaining person, however, was sitting up and sipping something steaming warm. She looked well rested, and was dressed to go. Since Diagon Alley was the next stop, Harry assumed she might be going there, as well.

"Not long, sir—about fifteen minutes. Do you want your drink, Mr. Potter?" Calvin said, still holding out the glass. Harry looked up at him, still out of it. It'd been a while since he'd had such undisturbed sleep.

"Yes," he said, sitting up properly. His stomach began to protest again, and Harry fought the urge to smack himself to hide the loud noise that was embarrassing him. "Er, thanks."

"No problem," said Calvin, bowing slightly and moving swiftly away. Harry was still in his jacket and very overlarge clothing, with his hair tousled more than ever and his glasses slightly askew. He slipped off his jacket and took a sip of the hot drink. It was very delicious and just what he needed. Sighing, he looked out the window and saw the scenery fly by quickly in a blur of green, yellow and blue.

"Mr. Potter?" a young voice asked, thick with a heavy French accent. Harry turned around, and saw the girl was sitting across from him. "Zat means to say, you are Harry Potter, aren't you?" She eyed the thin, lightning bolt scar on his forehead that was reminiscent of the fight with Voldemort when he was very young.

Harry flattened his bangs. "Yes, I am," he said quickly, fixing his glasses and sitting up straight.

"Why are you riding ze Knight Bus, then?" she inquired curiously.

"Because," said Harry, who was feeling slightly irritated to have to explain himself (why else would anyone want to ride the bus except to travel somewhere?), "I need to catch the bus to Hogwarts tomorrow."

"Oh," she replied quietly, and was silent for a moment. Harry suspected his reply was a bit harsh.

"Sorry," said Harry quickly. "I'm not used to random questions about where I'm going."

She waved her hand impatiently at him. "Never mind zat," she said, grinning. "And, my name is Penelope Grenier. I am from Beauxbatons Academy, by ze way."

"Ah," Harry replied, taking a large gulp from the drink in his hand. "Were you at Hogwarts last year, for the TriWizard Tournament?"

"Ah, but I was one year ze junior of ze age," she said, hanging her head.

"Diagon Alley, next stop, five minutes. Could you please make sure you have all of your belongings?" Calvin said politely, walking over and signaling them by tapping his watch.

Penelope smiled. "I 'ave all of my belongings," she said.

Eyeing Harry's jacket, Calvin nodded at the two of them. "All right, then." He bowed and moved swiftly away.

"They are much nicer here than on the other Knight Bus I've ridden," Harry spoke suddenly. He took a long drink from his mug and then sat it down on the night table.

"Zen you can't 'ave ridden many buses," Penelope replied politely. "Zey are always like zis." She stood up and walked over to her bed, and put all of her belongings on the top, looking through them so that she had everything with her.

Harry pulled on his jacket and picked up his mug, which was nearly empty. Calvin came around once more, and asked him to move to the front of the bus, taking Harry's cup and waving his wand, making the cup disappear.

He felt the bus jerk around as it slowed down in front of the Leaky Cauldron. Harry and Penelope waited patiently as the bus came to a complete stop and Daniel opened the door. Calvin had already disappeared into the back of the bus and was waiting outside with Harry's trunk when Harry stepped out of the bus.

Penelope waved at him, and told him good luck on the coming school year as she headed off into another direction. Calvin waited patiently as Harry dug the money out of his trunk to pay him, then walked off and got on the waiting bus. Harry, standing by the makeshift portable trunk, watched the bus depart before moving.

Rolling the trunk to the Leaky Cauldron's entrance, Harry opened the door and stepped in. Tom hadn't closed up for the evening yet; he was serving two witches a cup of something deep red. Harry walked in awkwardly, and waited for Tom to finish.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?" He asked politely, turning his full attention on him.

"Do you have a room I could use for tonight?" Harry replied quietly. "And could you tell me when the shops open tomorrow?"

"Yes, I do have one room available," said Tom, looking underneath the counter top for a key. He handed the small gold key to Harry after unhooking it from the counter. "And the shops--they open around seven. Why?"

The Hogwarts train sets off at eleven, Harry remembered quickly. That would leave him a precious few hours to buy all of his school supplies. Seeing Tom waiting for his answer expectantly, he said, "Curiosity, Tom. I needed to pick up some things."

The shopkeeper nodded. "Please, follow me," said Tom, opening the door at the other end of the small room behind the counter. He appeared and took Harry's trunk from him. "Your room is room five," Tom informed him, leading him down a small corridor. They reached a door at the end, and the number "5" was placed on there very crookedly. Tom opened the door, and walked in, setting Harry's materials at the foot of the well-kept bed.

"There you are, Mr. Potter," Tom said, stepping back. "Room number five. You can pay me in the morning," he added, eyeing Harry's look to move to the trunk. "Good night."

"Good night, Tom," Harry replied. "And thank you. Could you wake me up at six thirty tomorrow?"

"Absolutely," Tom said, waving his two fingers at him, saluting his goodbye. He stepped out of the room, and closed the door. Harry was finally in Diagon Alley. He'd gotten a room, and he was on his way to Hogwarts.

Then why did he have a feeling of impending doom? Harry sat on the old comforter and thought for a little bit. Mostly, he planned on what he was going to do tomorrow. He would have to get down to Gringotts early--and get his money--then he would have to hurry about until ten thirty, when he needed to be getting down to Kings Cross Station. He supposed he could take a walk, but how far away is Kings Cross Station from here? In his third year, Mr. Weasley, Ron's father, had a couple of Ministry cars for him. In fact, Harry supposed, he thought it rather odd that he hadn't heard from either Mrs. Weasley, or from Mr. Weasley. Surely--_surely_--they didn't forget about him? Harry kicked off his shoes and took off his jacket, setting it at the end of his bed by his trunk. "_I probably shouldn't worry about that_," he thought absentmindedly. "_It's not like the Weasleys are my own parents. And, with what Fred and George going into their last year, it's awfully selfish of me to automatically think they'd invite me_." The Weasleys had their plates full already…and Harry probably shouldn't bother them like he has.

He wiped his brow, amazed at the heat of the day lingering into the night like this. Still in the jeans he'd worn all day long, Harry took off his shirt and let the breeze from the open window to his left cool him down a little. He leaned back and shifted into the cold sheets. He could take care of himself. And he needed no one else…this summer proved that.

"_Even still,_" Harry thought as he took off his glasses and closed his green eyes to sleep, "_it's not like anyone else cared in the first place._"


	3. Beginnings

Title: The Rise and Fall

Author: Kary Starr

Rating: PG-13/R (yaoi)

Summary: Harry is on his way to beginning his fifth year at Hogwarts but must confront all trials of doom and anguish; however, when he realizes his feelings from a certain someone, everything falls apart…

Pairings: Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione

Email: sailorfreak6@yahoo

Categories: Angst, Romance

****

The Rise and Fall: Chapter Two

"Beginnings"

~*~*~*~

"Please, Mr. Potter, it's six thirty," Tom said, leaning over Harry.

Harry awoke with a start, a cold sweat over his skin. His head hurt a little, and his heart and breath were quick. He felt like that he just exercised. Looking up, he saw a worried Tom leaning over him.

"Mr. Potter, are you okay?" he asked kindly.

Harry sat up, and Tom moved away, letting him have some breathing room. "I'm fine, Tom," he said, feeling a little woozy, and his entire body was shaking. "I'm fine."

Tom nodded, although Harry was sure that he wasn't convinced. "If you're sure, Mr. Potter," said Tom, moving away to the door. "Do you want something for breakfast, then?"

"I'll be down in five minutes," said Harry, standing up. "Could you have an egg or two and toast? I'd really appreciate it." He looked at Tom, and saw a look of deep concern. Harry followed Tom's gaze to his chest and torso, which Harry noticed was shirtless because of the lasting summer heat. The bruises, new and old, were very noticeable and there were a lot of them. He also noticed that, even with breathing out, his ribs stuck out like a sore thumb. Harry could only assume he was thinking the worst.

"Are you…all right, Mr. Potter?" said Tom delicately, taking his eyes off Harry's marks and bruises and looking at his gaunt face.

"Tom, this isn't as bad as it looks," said Harry quickly. "I…fell down some stairs before I came, you know, and knocked over some…stuff. I'm fine, really." Harry reached behind him, and without looking, he found yesterday's shirt at the end of his bed and put it on quickly.

"Then I shall have breakfast read then," he said, looking a little distraught. Harry knew that the old innkeeper was very kind and only concerned. After all, he was in charge of Harry, to say the least, the summer before last when Sirius Black--then an escaped murderer--was on the loose and Harry was the main target. Tom knew he was only looking out for him, not as a friend, but as a Good Samaritan, and as a decent wizard.

He yawned a little. Nothing he could do now about Uncle Vernon's ways to break him--even if it meant literally--and started to get ready for the day ahead. He pulled out the list of school supplies he needed, and his bag, which held a small amount of money--it was still quite a sum, but it wouldn't cover room and board for the night plus Harry's school year and supplies. He also pulled out a clean pair of jeans and a shirt, taking a shower quickly in the next room and hopping about putting on his clean clothes. Reaching into his trunk, he took out Hedwig's cage and set it on the bed and underneath lay his cloak for the outdoors. He took it out, knowing that the morning would be a bit chilly. Apparently, a cold front had moved in while he was sleeping. Ready and rearing to go, he fixed his crooked glasses atop his nose and put on his sneakers, opening the door and locking his room with the key Tom had given him the night before. He would be back later to pack his new school supplies into his trunk.

With the black cloak over his arm, Harry made his way down the corridor to the open inn. Most of the doors were closed, so Harry supposed that maybe he was the only person up besides Tom himself. He entered the pub-like inn and saw that is was completely empty. Tom was cleaning a glass when Harry walked up, and a plate of food sat ready on the counter. He sat down, and picked up his fork numbly. It'd been a while since he'd seen food--real food, not stale bread and warm discolored water.

"Thank you, Tom," Harry said, digging into the plate of food. He was finished with breakfast in no time, and his stomach called for more. Harry resisted the urge to ask Tom for something else to eat; he knew eating too fast and too much would only make him sicker.

"You'll be on your way, then, Mr. Potter?" Tom said, looking at the empty plate.

"Yes, and I'll be back soon for my other things. I'd pay you now, but I need to go to Gringotts first--"

"Later, before you leave, then," interrupted Tom, waving his hand at Harry's excuse. "It's just after seven, I suspect some of the shops are open."

Harry looked up at the wizarding clock. It read about seven-ten, and Harry realized that ten minutes of his precious time--his three hours to get everything he needed for the school term--had passes by so quickly.

"See you in a couple of hours, Tom," Harry said quickly, flapping his cloak open and flying it around his shoulders. He clasped it shut and ran out the door quickly.

"Good bye then, Mr. Potter," Tom said to the closed door, and picked up Harry's plate.

~*~*~*~

Harry hurried out of Gringotts with a bag full of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts. It was going on eight-fifteen. Harry knew that this wasn't a huge space of time, going beneath the Gringotts in less than an hour--but Harry was very, very anxious about his time, and he really had no clue about how he was getting to Kings Cross Station. Harry really had no time to spare.

Due to the growth spurt over the last summer, Harry needed new robes, not to mention all the schoolbooks he'd require and his refill of potion ingredients. Plus, on the way to Diagon Alley his telescope broke, he needed the year's supply of parchment and ink, and he needed a different hook on Hedwig's cage.

Starting with the first shop he saw that he required, Harry rushed into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions and rang the bell at the desk, almost impatiently.

"Yes, dear?" Madam Malkin said, stepping out of the backroom.

"Hogwarts," Harry said, nearly breathless. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I mean, I need new school robes, for Hogwarts. And a new dress robe, too."

She gave him an odd look. "Aren't you a bit behind season, dear?" Opening the door behind the desk, she stepped out and walked over to the rack of black school robes, pulling off three sets.

"I've been detained," Harry said numbly, knowing that it was all too well the truth.

"Well, come over here, dear," she said, waving her hand, pins sticking out of her mouth and the robes over her other arm. "Take off your cloak, and we'll get you measured fast."

Harry pulled off his cloak and stepped up on the stool. It took them nearly twenty minutes to measure the school robes and the dress robes, plus hemming and packaging. Harry waited anxiously as Madam Malkin worked in the back room, and couldn't help but show a face of impatience when she handed him the sets of packaging.

"Thank you!" he said, paying her quickly and rushing out the door. He rushed into Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore, and read off his school list quickly to the man behind the counter, who looked like he wanted to be asleep at that particular moment. He rushed about the store picking out Harry's order, and handed the books to him in a bag. Harry handed him the money and ran down to the next three stores down the street, buying the parchment and ink, the new collapsible brass telescope (much like his old one), and picking up Hedwig's cage hook. He moved swiftly throughout the Apothecary, refilling his stores of potion ingredients swiftly and with an armful of school supplies moved throughout the narrow streets of Diagon Alley, which were now becoming full of people bustling about their daily business.

Harry burst into the Leaky Cauldron and moved through the chairs and tables with ease. Tom watched him come in and then disappear. Harry shifted the materials so that he could maneuver his hand to get the key from his cloak pocket and open his door. He flew into the room and dumped all the things on the bed. Harry's anxiousness was kicking into full stream. It was closing in on ten-twenty, and Harry had very little time to get to Kings Cross Station.

Moving the previous junk in the trunk around, Harry shoved all the things back inside of his trunk, including his cloak and his jacket, which he did not need. It was surprisingly warm out. Hedwig's cage wouldn't fit, of course, so Harry put that on the top of the trunk, along with two other parcels that simply would not fit, no matter what Harry did to get them in. Picking up his bag of money, he rushed out of his room with the key in his hand and went to pay Tom--he had no time to waste.

"How much do I owe, Tom?" Harry said breathlessly, gripping the sides of the counter tight to catch his breath.

"Thirty-one Galleons, fourteen Sickles and twenty-seven Knuts," he said casually. "Do you need help with your belongings? I saw it looked like you have quite a load."

"Yes, thanks," Harry said, handing off the money and key to Tom, who took it and deposited in the cashier, and then took the key and placed it along the rack of empty key rings. Tom politely excused himself and followed Harry to his room. Harry noticed for the first time that someone had been into tidy up--and all that was there was Harry's belongings.

"You grab the cage and the extra parcels," Tom said, pointing to the extra things atop his rolling suitcase. "I shall take the trunk."

Harry nodded and picked up the other things, allowing for Tom to access the trunk. "Um, Tom," Harry started slowly, "where is Kings Cross from here?"

"Ah," Tom said, grinning an almost toothless grin. "I'll call a wizard taxi for you--I doubt you have Muggle money on you?"

Harry smiled at Tom, acknowledging his assumption. However, Harry was laughing on the inside. Him, have Muggle money…? In the last fifteen years, the only people who'd have given him Muggle money would be the Dursleys and they wouldn't be caught dead giving Harry anything of value.

The two of them dragged Harry's things to the curb and Tom whistled a tune, sticking two fingers in his mouth. The sound echoed off the walls of the outside of the Leaky Cauldron and a blue-colored taxi showed up--Harry assumed it must have been magic, because he hadn't seen it come from anywhere--and stopped in front of them.

"What can I do fer ya, laddie?" the man inside asked, leaning out the door window.

"Kings Cross, if you would please," Tom said to the driver. The taxi driver opened his door and got out, helping Harry and Tom put the belongings into the car trunk.

Harry opened the door and Tom started back inside. Harry made a move to get in, but stopped. Standing back up, he said, "Thank you, Tom."

Tom turned around, and smiled. "Only for one of my best customers," Tom said kindly, and walked inside his shop.

Harry sat there for a moment, a bit surprised at his turn of luck, and sat down, pulling the door closed. The man pressed a button on the dashboard, the huge red one next to the green and blue, and in a whirl of color, they were gone from the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley.

~*~*~*~

"Kings Cross," said the driver, after only a few minutes had passed. Harry looked around, amazed at the fact that they arrived there so quickly. "That'll be abou' twelve Galleons, please."

Harry reached in his pocket and pulled out the money. "_I'm going to be broke before I reach Hogwarts!_" he thought unhappily. The driver got out, along with him, and helped Harry put his trunk and belongings onto a travel cart.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, placing the cage atop the stack of things.

He waved at him, stepping into the car and with a blast of light, was gone. Harry blinked for a moment, and then heard the huge clock chime half past the hour. He'd made it. He _actually_ made it--everything, all his mishaps and trials, were slightly dimmed by the fact he was going to be seeing Ron and Hermione soon, not to mention his school and be in a place where he wasn't seen as a slug of the earth by everyone he saw.

Harry moved the cart easily through the station, heading for the platform between nine and ten--Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. He found it easy enough, and slid through the platform wall nonchalantly, appearing on the other side in an instant.

The red train reading the number "5972" was docking, and the hubbub of the students putting their trunks on the train and saying good bye to their parents was in full steam. Harry didn't see any of the Weasleys--they mustn't be here yet, of course--and Hermione was no where either. Harry did see anyone he knew personally until he heard the drawling voice of his rival.

"I see that the Muggle World doesn't treat you well, Potter."

Harry whipped his head around to see Draco Malfoy's piercing blue eyes staring at him from eye level. Apparently, Malfoy had had a growth spurt as well. It hadn't been since their first year that they'd been of equal height, Malfoy always being the slightly taller one.

Harry stood there for a second, and saw something that surprised him, and that was that Malfoy was alone. His goons, Crabbe and Goyle, more his body guards than his friends, were no where to be seen. Malfoy didn't usually pick a fight without them, and Harry wondered what made Malfoy so confident that he could win.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Harry said angrily. There was something about that gaze--that penetrating gaze--which made Harry feel uncomfortable. He was very aware that his shirt was about three sizes too small for him, and was clinging to his poor stature unpleasantly. Not to mention the fact that his pants were four sizes too large, hanging off of his hip so that the pants would be long enough to cover his legs. Harry glared at Malfoy, whose clothes always fit him snug and properly--in his blue dress pants and khaki sweater vest over a white Polo shirt.

"Touchy, are we?" said Malfoy, running his hand through his pale blonde hair. "Can't you come up with anything more clever than to 'shove off'?" He wheeled his luggage over to Harry, and was standing rather uncomfortable close.

"No, because the less I speak to you, the better," Harry snapped, moving his head away.

"Oh, now I'm sad, Potter. Really," he said sarcastically.

He turned to Malfoy, who was wearing a peculiar look. Harry said nothing, glaring at him. "_My, _this_ is going to be a fun year…isn't it…_" he thought. Not eleven o'clock yet, and already Malfoy was taunting him.

Suddenly, Goyle and Crabbe appeared at his side. Harry, standing uncomfortably in the center of attention, felt really self-conscious marked three to one. He saw Malfoy whisper something in their ears, and then all three of them laughed. Harry, whose face was just beginning to tinge pink of embarrassment, wheeled his travel cart away from all of them. He just wasn't up to retorts anymore.

~*~*~*~

"Harry!"

He turned around. "Ron? Hermione?"

Two bright faces appeared at his side. Hermione, with her light brown hair and cinnamon eyes, was smiling sweetly. She looked…different…perhaps she got her hair cut, Harry supposed, but anyway, she looked really pretty, with a nice glowing suntan. Ron, on the other hand, was now half a head taller than Harry and was wearing…_glasses_?

"Yes, looks like I got the same genes Percy got," Ron said irritably. "Couldn't read a thing far away, so I had to get these." He pointed to the small frames on his face, which were thin and very flattering. "I don't need them all the time," he added quickly.

Harry smiled weakly. "Yes, well, not all of us are that lucky," he replied, pointing to his glasses. "And Hermione, did you have a good summer?"

"She broke up with Krum, Harry," Ron said almost happily. Hermione blushed deep red and her smile faded instantly. She looked very angry. 

"You're so insensitive, Ron!" she snapped. "I'll talk to you two later, when Ron has stopped being such an ass." With that, she stomped away, still blushing. Harry realized that there was something deeper to that comment. He wonder what made her so angry…she was always touchy about Ron and Viktor, but this...there was _definitely_ something a little more meaningful.

Ron blushed lightly. "Could never understand them, girls…" he said quietly. "I don't see what the big deal is about. I mean, you were bound to find out and when would the conversation be good? 'Oh by the way Harry, I broke up with Vicky, the guy I ditched my friends for this summer.'"

Harry didn't answer. Ron had ditched him too, and that was still at the front of his thoughts.

"A bit silent, aren't you Harry? Something the matter?" He asked, looking at Harry. He touched Harry's shoulder reassuringly, and Harry tried not to wince but a little grimace slipped out. Ron had put his hand on a fairly large bruise.

Seeing Harry's face, Ron's hand pulled back immediately. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Harry said, not looking at Ron. He started pushing the cart to the luggage compartment. "We've got to go or we'll miss the train."

"Right," Ron replied, not looking convinced.

"_As if you cared at all, Ron,_" Harry thought darkly as Ron caught up with him. "_You could never understand…_"


	4. Journey To Hogwarts

Title: The Rise and Fall

Author: Kary Starr

Rating: PG-13/R (yaoi)

Summary: Harry is on his way to beginning his fifth year at Hogwarts but must confront all trials of doom and anguish; however, when he realizes his feelings from a certain someone, everything falls apart…

Pairings: Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione

Email: sailorfreak6@yahoo

Categories: Angst, Romance

****

The Rise and Fall: Chapter Three

"Journey to Hogwarts"

~*~*~*~

Harry handed his top parcel and the cage to the man inside the train carriage, who took it and placed it with the rest of Harry's belongings. "Thank you," Harry said, watching the man place a tag on top of Harry's things, so that the house elves would know whose things were whose.

Ron walked up next to him, scratching his flaming red hair. His face was full of disquiet. "Harry, you seem…different," he said slowly, waiting for the man to finish with his belongings. He handed him the last of his bags, and turned to Harry.

"I don't know what you mean," he said quietly, walking to the front of the train. He stepped up and slid open the first compartment.

"Harry," Ron said, pointing to the fourth car down. "We sit there. That's the Prefects Car." 

"I know," he said coldly. "See you later, Ron." Harry stepped in the car and slammed the sliding door shut. He stood there for a moment; his hands still on the handles of the door. His back was pressed up against the cold metal, and suddenly Harry felt very, very depressed.

__

"Harry…you seem…different," Ron had said, slowly…

"_Of course I do,_" Harry thought darkly. "_You wouldn't know. You ditched me this entire summer. You left me, both you and Hermione_." Harry stood still for a second, and then he slid to the floor, covering his face with his hands. He felt this irresistible urge to cry. "_After what happened with Cedric Diggory…and Voldemort…I doubt everything about myself. I caused that death. I helped stupid Voldemort to rise again…and now even_ _I'm powerless to stop him…can you imagine it, Ron? Could you? I don't think you can even begin to understand what I've been through…and then, left to these thoughts all summer long…without a friendly face, anywhere. **You** try living with the Dursleys. **You **try to block the images of Voldemort every time you close your eyes, Ron. Everything's my fault…everything…_"

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the envelope that he received over the summer from Hogwarts. He flipped through the papers until he saw the shiny gold badge…his Prefect badge. "_Ron…this is why I can't sit with you…_" He picked it up and examined it. In Diploma font, the word "Prefect" was etched largely over the silver background, with gold fringe and what seemed to be a vine-like design.

Harry stood up, still looking at the badge. Why was he so…angry? He definitely felt overly furious at Ron. His best friend had ditched him in his most pivotal summer…especially when everything was so bad as it was. Hermione…she ditched him, as well. Not even _one _letter from either of them. Harry could understand the fact that they were busy, yes—but to ignore him completely? Harry didn't feel even he could justify that. So, they couldn't understand why he was different? They never took the time to.

~*~*~*~

Harry looked out the window, as the sky darkened just right with his mood. Lightning flashed across the deep gray sky, and it looked like perhaps night decided to come early. Harry settled himself into the purple cushions of the Prefects cabin, and wrapped the blanket around him a little tighter. The ride, as it had been so far, was quiet and relaxing; Ron, despite his and Hermione's tiff earlier, must have tipped her off to give him some time. Hermione was nowhere to be seen. He had no doubt in his mind that she was in Ron's compartment, keeping him company. Well, let them keep company. He managed to make it all summer with out them, what's just a few hours more? He really didn't feel like talking to them, anyway.

In his car there were about five other Prefects. Three were Ravenclaw, and he knew none of them; the other two were Hufflepuff, and Harry was uncertain of these two as well. He knew there must be other prefects, presumably in the other car, and shifted deeper into the seat. The very least, he wouldn't have to worry about Malfoy.

Speaking of Malfoy, why was he so gleeful this morning? The last time he saw that, Buckbeak was about to be killed…so what happened over the summer that made him so much surer? If Harry didn't know any better, he'd say it were almost as if Malfoy—

"Harry?" 

Harry looked up from his thoughts. Hermione was sitting across from him, looking at him sadly.

"What is it Hermione?" Harry said, turning his head away and looking outside, which it was just as well—he couldn't see anything outside…everything was dark and stormy. They were approaching Hogwarts School quickly. He probably ought to get out and get his robes here soon.

"Harry…Ron told me that you didn't look well. Are you…okay?" Hermione said quietly, placing a comforting hand on his knee.

Harry wanted to scream, "NO! I'm not all right, stop asking me! Leave me alone!" Instead, he continued to stare out the window, a muscle in his jaw jumping from the tension. "I'm fine Hermione," he said monotonously. "_God, can't they just leave me alone? I understand her good intentions and all, but quite frankly, neither of them is wanted right now. I don't want to be left alone to me thoughts—I've been all summer, sitting alone. Why can't I just let this go?_"

"_Because,_" a nasty voice in his head replied. "_They've let you go. They couldn't even begin to fathom your pain, your anguish. Your dread for each morning, wanting to wake up elsewhere, wishing death as an escape. You've changed, Harry Potter. And they can't accept that. They selfishly wish for the old Harry Potter, and they don't want to do any of the work to keep him there. They ditched you…and you had to pay the ultimate price. Living with nothing but your conscious. Because they never endured Uncle Vernon's beatings, Aunt Petunia's taunts, Dudley's bruising, the work you were put to or the hunger you never felt going away. They weren't alone this summer, as you were, trapped in your head. They don't see Voldemort every time they close their eyes, do they? They never tried to understand, and it's too late now._"

__

Too late…the words echoed in Harry's head.

"Harry?" Hermione interrupted timidly. "You look…angry."

Harry looked up, his green eyes almost dull. "Hermione, did it ever occur to you that, yes of course I'm different? Did you guys expect me to remain the same over the summer, preserved like some sort of ice sculpture?"

"Harry--" Hermione started. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't owl you, like I should have. Especially with what happened with Cedric. I knew I should have owled you, but other things just came up that were…" she paused.

"More important?" Harry suggested angrily.

__

Too late…

"I'm sorry you had such a poor summer, Harry!" Hermione said, looking like she got slapped. "Mine was no picnic, either! Near the beginning of August, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was found near where I was staying with Viktor! Not to mention that my relationship with him was nothing but purely material! Assuming…assuming I was to school brain, and had no true-life experience, I would be easier to bed than most, so I nearly…" she wiped tears that were streaming down her face away. "Anyway, obviously that's nothing compared to what Harry Potter's been through!"

Harry looked up at Hermione, with an angry scowl. Standing up, in which Hermione followed suit, He looked her square in the face and glared at her. Her face was almost the same. "Hermione," he said, in nearly a whisper, "you're right. It's nothing to what I've been through--"

Harry looked down. Hermione, her eyes glassed over and looking so frail, her lower lip trembling to keep from crying and her cheeks flushed, looked so…_beautiful_. Harry took a deep breath, and swallowed hard. He looked in her eyes, deep and rich and full of so many different shades of chocolate brown.

Suddenly, as Harry might have known all along, he felt himself break. Along the edges of his mind a wall of self-defense started to crumple. "_No!_" Harry's mind shouted. "_Absolutely not!_"

His green eyes opened a little wider, and Harry backed away from Hermione, who looked like she wanted to…perhaps it was just his imagination…her eyes were slightly closed, and her head slightly tilted up…

__

Then, Hermione, who'd never done this before, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek…

"Hermione?" he said. She looked at him, almost pleading. "I-I'm so sorry." He turned around and promptly left. He needed to get out of here.

Hermione stood there for a moment. Harry realized, with trembling awareness, that everything was surely different.

~*~*~*~

He walked into the next Prefect Car, and continued walking. He started to walk slower down the passage from the Prefects Car to the other compartments, trying to catch his breath, and his anger. He stopped, and felt the moving car shift and shake around on the tracks. "What am I going to _do_?" he said aloud. "_Hermione must hate me now…after all, it _really_ isn't my fault…but I don't like Hermione like that…Ron does, it's so obvious…_"

Harry was trapped in these thoughts, and all of a sudden, he felt a huge shake--the car must've gone over a rock on the tracks--that sent him flying into the air from the impact. Harry felt himself land--not on the cold, dull metal but _on_ someone.

"Potter! What _are_ you doing?" Malfoy said loudly, as Harry felt himself land atop him. He'd shoved Malfoy into the floor, facedown, while he was kind of--well--lying on him. "You're no pixie, you know."

Harry blinked, slightly confused. Then, scrambling up, he backed away from Malfoy and watched him stand up. Dusting himself off, Malfoy glared at him. "I really appreciate that," he sneered.

"What--what are _you_ doing here?" Harry said, clenching his fists. "No one but Prefects are allowed in this hall."

Malfoy reached in his pocket and pulled out a small shining pin. He flipped it between his index and fore finger, and the word "Prefect" glinted at him mockingly. "Oh, damn, how I _do_ hate to dash away your dreams..."

Harry narrowed his eyes. Since he couldn't think of any retort to that, Harry walked by and brushed Malfoy off angrily.

"Potter," he said sharply. "I do think an apology is in order. You knocked me down, after all. How rude of you not to even say you're sorry."

Harry stopped in his tracks. With clenched fists, he turned his head slowly around. He wasn't going to be caught dead saying sorry to Malfoy, his rival and enemy, so with that thought in mind he narrowed his eyes even closer, until they were black slits, and gave him a look that shot daggers.

Malfoy's rivalry was the same, if not equal. "How did _you_ ever become a Prefect, Malfoy? Did your Daddy pay your way ahead? Couldn't _earn_ it yourself?" Harry spat venomously.

"How did you--or Granger, for that matter--manage it?" Malfoy retorted. "I can guess how you did. All that bull shit about being the 'Boy Who Lived'--not for much longer, I can assure you--must've gone to somebody's head. And Granger--well your guess is as good as mine…how many people did she have to sleep with to get to the top, I wonder…?"

Harry's anger surged through his veins. Malfoy had taken one step too far this time. Without even thinking, Harry had moved and pinned Malfoy against the wall, holding him up with a fistful of clothes. "You son of a bitch," Harry seethed.

"Oh, what _are_ you going to do?" Malfoy said, mocking a frightened look. "Big bad Scar-face has to turn to violence to get his point across. How…_mature_ of you."

"Big words, Malfoy," he said. "Wonder if you'll still be so cocky after your face is re-arranged?"

Malfoy moved his hands up and ripped Harry's hold from his clothes. Putting his hands in between Harry's grip, his pushed them out quickly, breaking the hold from Harry and pushing him away.

"Don't touch me again, Potter," he snarled. "Don't ever--" A huge bump in the tracks prevented Malfoy from finishing his sentence. It sent him flying across the hall, and into Harry.

Out of reflex, Harry punched Malfoy across the face, causing his lip to bleed, and Malfoy stumbled backwards into the far wall.

Malfoy wiped the blood away with the back of his hand, looking severely angry. His usually neat and straight hair was ruffled and his clothes were wrinkled. "I take it by this retaliation that I'm right?" He paused. "Did she sleep with _you_? Or was Weasel her first?"

Harry's eyes bulged. "_Why does he even care?_" Harry thought angrily. Hermione was one of his best friends…and for him to say that about her, about her reputation…Malfoy could do some damage if he chose to spread anything around.

"She's slept with no one. Not that's any of your fucking business, Malfoy. We're only fifteen years old, not twenty," Harry snarled.

"Best to start early. Practice makes perfect, you know. I wonder if there's a trial period…"

"Shut up, Malfoy. Why do you even _think_ that?"

"Well, she is a Mudblood. You can only expect so much from her. I figure, at least she must have a good reputation. And that would explain why she's the top of the class year after year…" he drifted off. "Anyway, care to comment?"

"Yeah. Comment this," Harry said. And with that, he punched Malfoy square across the face, knocking him to the side of the train.

Malfoy leaned against the wall of the train, which was rattling loudly, and steadied himself with his hand. The other one went up to his face, and wiped the blood trickling from his mouth. "You'll pay for that," he growled.

"Like hell I will," Harry replied, looking at him with a sense of superiority. "You can't even hit back. It's like fighting with a girl."

"Yeah?" Malfoy said angrily. "I'm a girl, am I?"

"I should think so," Harry sneered. "You act like one, whining and whimpering home to your Daddy. You're _Daddy's little girl_, aren't you?" He took a step forward, deciding whether or not to sock him across the face again.

Malfoy smirked--a snide, cruel, dark smile. Moving swiftly across the hall, he pinned Harry against the wall. Taking his chin in his hand, Malfoy gripped his hand around Harry tightly.

Leaning in close, Malfoy whispered, "I think you act more like a girl than I do. A little tomboy," he muttered darkly before leaning in and kissing Harry on the lips. Harry felt his entire body go numb and jump all at the same time. This was his first kiss, and it was with a boy.

Not to mention, it was with _Malfoy_.

Struggling against Malfoy, Harry was surprised to find out that when Malfoy wanted to be rough, he could be. Pinned against the wall, Malfoy leaned in even further, watching Harry with delight as he struggled to get out of his grip. This wasn't the first time or the last time Harry knew Malfoy to kiss someone. Boy, or girl, it didn't matter to him, Harry assumed. All he could think was to get Malfoy off of him. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, when Malfoy was shoved this hard up against him…

Harry maneuvered his hands against Malfoy's flat chest and tried to get him to get off of him. This wasn't doing very well for him. Suddenly, Malfoy's lips left his, and finally Harry was able to breathe.

"Get off of me, you pervert!" Harry yelled frantically, squirming against Malfoy's grip. Malfoy only laughed in his ear, shifting his body so that he was pressing Harry completely against the wall. Harry realized that one hand was trailing down his side, touching his bare skin below his too-small shirt…

…and all the while, Malfoy was kissing Harry on the neck, oblivious to Harry's demands that he get off right now. Harry struggled, all right, but it was no use. Malfoy was extremely strong. He didn't even have to use any of his hands to pin him there, although Harry could sense that's what Malfoy was hoping for.

He could still taste blood in his mouth, from Malfoy's busted lip. It made him sick to his stomach that even when Malfoy let him go that no one would believe him. They've been enemies for so damn long.

"Let go of me!" Harry said again, trying even harder, although Malfoy did have to advantage of being about ten or fifteen pounds heavier.

"Say you want me, and I will."

Harry froze. _What did he just say?_ Harry felt himself blush and he knew Malfoy was enjoying this. That god damn fucking pervert! "_What?_"

"You heard me," Malfoy said slyly. "Tell me you want me, and I let you go."

"I won't say anything of the sort!" he snarled. "Let me go! What would you do if someone walked in here right now and saw you--and me--" Harry gulped loudly, his face burning. The more he struggled against Malfoy, the more entwined he became in him.

"They'll think you're just like every other natural boy in the school," Malfoy whispered in Harry's ear. "My dashing good looks and charm lured you right in."

"I wasn't lured anywhere," Harry protested angrily. "Now get the fuck off me!"

"Tsk," Malfoy tutted. "Such language is definitely not supposed to come out of such a sweet mouth," said Malfoy, kissing the corner of Harry's lips, moving his own over Harry's. He twisted at Malfoy's new move and suddenly he was completely pinned at Malfoy's side. Malfoy had held up one arm, and the other was beating futilely at Malfoy's chest.

Harry frantically tried to get away, but unfortunately, he found himself actually enjoying this more than a frightened feeling. It was the first time anyone had paid attention to him, or made such attempts at him. Malfoy broke the kiss, and pulled his head back to take a look at Harry.

He glanced up at Malfoy with dark eyes. He was pissed. Pissed for enjoying it, and pissed because it was Malfoy, and pissed because it was with a boy, and not a girl, like it ought to be. "Leave me alone, Malfoy," Harry said quietly. "Just let me go!"

"No," he replied silkily. "I told you I'd let you go only if you say you want me."

Harry felt his anger boiling inside. "I won't say it, so you're wasting your time." Harry glared at him angrily.

"Well, then," he said, leaning in to Harry's other ear, "I'll have to _make_ you say it."

"Why are you doing this?!" Harry said, feeling Malfoy's lips on his neck again, although this time Malfoy was biting him (//AN// Boy, those marks will be hard to explain!).

"Because," he whispered, "to think, I would have gotten the Boy Who Lived to bow to me, to want _me_. That's the ultimate price. What would anyone think?"

"You're a sadist," Harry said, wincing as Malfoy touched a bruise on his side.

Malfoy's fingers lingered on the spot that Harry'd winced on. "Oh. What's this?"

"N-nothing," Harry replied quickly, shifting around so that his hands wouldn't be on the fairly large lacerations on his torso. "Please, Malfoy, just get off." He turned his head away from Malfoy's inquiring face.

Malfoy ran his hands under Harry's shirt. Harry could feel him linger on the bruises, cuts and scars. Yet, Malfoy didn't even remotely look abashed. Or sorry, either. Not that he needed pity from his enemy, but those lacerations _hurt_ when something--or someone--touched them.

Harry could feel his face like it was on fire. Malfoy's touches felt so good, even on the scars, and Harry fought to keep a straight face. What did he care anymore? It's not like he was going to win. He'd tried. He wasn't one to give up, but really, it's not like he had anything to look forward to or go back on.

"Malfoy," Harry said, once again feeling his anger burn up. "_This is Malfoy! This is _wrong_. I may not have a home, or decent friends, or even someone waiting for me--but I just can't simply give up. For god's sakes, this is a _Slytherin_! The one who's tormented me all these years--_" "Stop it NOW!" Harry said, pushing up against him one last time, putting all his force into the lunge. It wasn't much, as Harry was very light and was very tired, but it knocked Malfoy off a little bit.

Malfoy, however, didn't seem to like to lose. With the same force Harry used to push him away, Malfoy used that force to pin him back. Holding his arm across Harry's chest, Malfoy managed to make Harry completely immobile.

Harry felt that he just couldn't take it any more. With one final lunge, Harry kicked off the back of the train wall and across the hallway, causing Harry to stumble forward with the amount of momentum, and tumble into Malfoy without even meaning to.

Harry, seeing that he had a break while Malfoy realized what had happened, made a run for the door--he wouldn't _daren't_ do that in public--

He was about to fling open the door when he felt his wrist jerked back. Harry felt his arm twist up and behind his back. Crying out in pain, Harry tried to stay still so that he wouldn't hurt himself anymore. Wincing profusely, he looked up at Malfoy.

"_What is your god damn problem?_" Harry shouted. "I don't know what is up your ass, but--"

Malfoy's face twisted into a malevolent grin, then faded into a snarl. Oops, wrong words. "Do you know what kind of summer I've had?" he sneered. "Do you know what repercussions _I_ had to face from my father because _you_ ran away from the Dark Lord? I had to spend my entire summer locked in a cell because my father couldn't trust me any further than himself. All because of _you_."

Harry felt anger surge through his veins. "Do you think my summer was a picnic as well? I bet you didn't even endure half of what I--"

Malfoy slapped Harry across the face. He seemed calm, and cool, though Harry could sense he was hysterical with anger. Twisting his arm up even further, all Malfoy did was smile.

"That hurts!" Harry cried, the sudden pain shooting into his shoulder blade.

"You'll pay for what you did to me," he seethed.

"Malfoy…"

He smiled. Harry sighed inwardly; knowing that Malfoy really _wouldn't_ let him go. This was going to be hell, this year. Harry often liked to wander off alone, but this could really prove to be a problem.

Especially if there's a remote chance Harry liked Malfoy.

"Come on, it's not hard," he said softly, twisting his arm up even further until Harry felt little pin-pricks of the breaking bones in his arm.

"Malfoy," Harry said quietly, the pain coming out of his voice. Malfoy seemed to accept this, and let his arm go. He instantly cradled it, trying to assess the injury. Watching Malfoy carefully, Harry moved a couple steps back from him.

However, Malfoy was quicker. With a tiny peck on Harry's lips, Malfoy moved away swiftly to the other side of the car. He grinned maliciously. "You'll regret the day you and I ever met, Potter," he said softly. With one final glance, he walked out the other side of the car, like it was nothing else.

Harry stared back in disbelief, watching the door close. Without even thinking, his hand went to his lips, feeling the beginning of a bruise.

What was he going to do?

~*~*~*~

Harry backed up against the wall, and let himself slide to the floor. He had never felt so ashamed or embarrassed all at the same time. His entire body hurt, like Uncle Vernon had beaten him, and he could still feel Malfoy's fingers on his skin. Harry felt a throbbing in his neck where Malfoy had bitten him along his skin. Everything seemed so vivid, and Harry itched to get rid of this feeling.

Harry sat there for a few minutes, thinking, and trying to calm himself down. He'd never been so angry in his entire life. Even angrier than when he was taunted. The vulnerability he'd shown Malfoy, the fact that he couldn't move him, or get away, scared the shit out of him.

Standing up, and trying to regain balance, he walked carefully down the train to where his trunk was kept, so he could change into his robes. To say the very least, the robes would hide any of his marks.

Walking stiffly through the hallway, he covered his neck just so, making it looking like he had a crick in his neck instead of covering bite marks. Harry made his way uninterrupted through the cabins and grabbed his Hogwarts school uniform with his black robes and changed quickly.

Harry walked out of the bathroom with a better feeling than before he went in. This time, he didn't have to cover anything of himself. The robes and the shirt managed to cover him entirely. In fact, Harry realized while tying his shoe, that this is the first time he'd been in clean, fitting clothes since last summer.

Walking briskly back to the Prefect compartment, Harry hoped he wouldn't run into anyone again. He was tired of trying to be who he just wasn't anymore, and tired of feeling guilty because he wasn't what everyone wanted.

Sliding open the hallway door, he walked quickly across, trying not to fall too deep in his thoughts. Looking out the windows as he entered the first Prefect car, he noticed that they'd be arriving to Hogwarts very soon. The sky was dark and the sounds of a distant storm were the only things that appeared outside.

Harry smiled. Hogwarts was more of a home than he'd even been in, and he'd realized he missed it very much. Hogwarts represented a sense of constancy and stability. Opening the door to the car where he was first in, Harry saw that Hermione was still there, sound asleep on the chair covered in the blanket that he had used earlier.

Thoughts and feelings of guilt washed over him. He'd forgotten about Hermione. Walking a little closer, he saw that her face had tearstains on it. "Oh, Hermione," he said softly, bending down and shaking her awake a little bit. "Come on, let's wake up. We're going to be at Hogwarts soon."

Her eyes opened up a little bit, and she looked bleary-eyed at Harry. "H-Harry?" she said, stuttering. Sitting up immediately, she gathered the blanket around her and hid herself from view. "Leave me alone!" she said; though her voice was muffled.

Harry wasn't surprised, nor did he try to comfort her. Instead, he sat down across from her and ignored her. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Hermione lift down the blankets and peer at him.

Harry didn't turn his head. Instead, he spoke softly, "Hermione, I'm sorry, but I just don't think I--"

With that, he heard Malfoy's voice down the corridor, snapping at people to get ready, as the conductor said five minutes to Hogwarts. Harry turned her Hermione slowly. Watching her, as she meekly stared back at him, made him think.

"_Would Malfoy leave me alone if I had a girlfriend?_" he thought vaguely. He remembered the words of Malfoy, all too clear, and decided that there was a way to get Malfoy to maybe leave him alone. If he was attached to a girl, then Malfoy wouldn't _daren't_ kiss him in public (if he ever got that far) because everyone would already know that he was straight. It would make Malfoy look stupid.

It was worth a shot, anyway. As the Hogwarts train slowed down, Harry turned to Hermione.

"Um, Hermione?" he said, trying to sound as sincere as he could (after all, he really did not like Hermione), "do you think that you and I could--?"

Hermione's face lit up, and it made Harry feel even guiltier for using Hermione to get Malfoy to leave him alone. "I always knew you liked me back, Harry!" she said, jumping up and giving Harry a huge hug, knocking his glasses askew.

"_What have I done now…_?" Harry thought pitifully, as he heard Malfoy's voice get louder. At the same time Malfoy opened their door, Hermione planted a kiss on his lips.

Harry saw Malfoy look angry for a brief second pulling his face into a snarl.

__

So that's how it's played, is it?


	5. Trial And Error

Author: Kary Starr

Rating: PG-13/R (yaoi)

Summary: Harry is on his way to beginning his fifth year at Hogwarts but must confront all trials of doom and anguish; however, when he realizes his feelings from a certain someone, everything falls apart…

Pairings: Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione

Email: sailorfreak6@yahoo

Categories: Angst, Romance

****

The Rise and Fall: Chapter Four

"Trial And Error"

~*~*~*~

"Hermione," he murmured into her mouth, holding her close. Glaring at Malfoy before he closed his eyes, Harry was certain that this surely would work. Malfoy ignored them and continued moving on through the compartment. Harry had to laugh inwardly. Malfoy's face was simply _priceless_.

Harry broke the kiss and looked back at Hermione. She really was a pretty girl, with soft brown hair and delicate features. Maybe he could learn to like her more. Certainly he did now, but not like _that_. His only concern is what Ron would say. Ron never out loud said that he liked Hermione (though it was fairly obvious). He couldn't tell Ron the truth, because he'd hate Harry even more than finding out that he and Hermione were a couple. That made his stomach hurt, just thinking about it.

But what was there to do? As Hermione lay next to him, snuggled into his chest, Harry felt for the first time that maybe he was appreciated beyond his time. She wasn't uncomfortable, and she seemed to fit there quite nicely, but Harry still felt awkward. Because, no matter how he tried to deny it, he _didn't like her this way_.

"_It's your first girlfriend, mate_," his brain reasoned, "_and no one really loves their first girlfriend._" Harry could help feeling bad about this. Shifting in his seat, he pulled out a book from the bag on the floor and started to read. Certainly, he saw the words, but they did not register in his mind. All he could think about was Malfoy. Him, and his goddamn kiss.

"_Why did that feel better than Hermione's kiss?_" He wondered silently, staring at the same paragraph over and over. Harry didn't even want to go there. He wasn't gay. And that's that.

Giving up on the book, he dropped it on the floor and leaned back, trying to relax a little. Hermione's weight shifted on him, as she sat up and started to fold the blankets up and collecting her belongings. Harry looked out the window, wondering why the hell that it's come to this. He only hoped that this wouldn't last long. Harry never much liked the girlfriend-boyfriend thing—not from the outside, and definitely _not_ from the inside. He couldn't take too long a time with this.

Hopefully by then Malfoy would have given up on him.

~*~*~*~

"Fir' years this way!" a familiar voice rang out. Hagrid was back from his mission from Dumbledore, and there he stood beckoning his hand to the younger crowd. His massive body was seen far above the crowd, as Hagrid easily cleared eight feet. He waved at Harry and Harry returned it with a small wave back.

Soon Hermione caught up to Harry; her bag slung over her shoulder and an expression happier than he would have ever seen her. He sighed inwardly, and gave her a small smile. She grinned back at him, and then he saw Ron emerge from afar. He gave Harry an odd look before walking over to them.

Ron stood there a moment, looking like he was trying to figure out what to say. He ran a hand through his red hair, and then sighed loudly. "Look, Harry," he said, careful not to look directly at him, "I guess I'm sorry, for earlier."

Harry looked back at him. "It's fine, Ron," he said, albeit coolly. "Never mind about it."

Ron glanced at him awkwardly, and then noticed Hermione for the first time. "Hey, Hermione," he said to her.

"Hi, Ron," she replied cheerily. Harry rolled his eyes. God, how girls can change their moods so quickly. It never ceased to amaze (or annoy him). He crossed his arms and hoped that Malfoy wouldn't show up, like he usually did.

"How was your summer, Hermione?" Ron said as they started to walk away from him. Harry had to laugh at this—once again, he was left behind. They flagged down one of the carriages and beckoned Harry to come. He adjusted his bag and then walked over to where they were standing. Ron went in first, then Hermione, followed by Harry. He sat next to Hermione, who only smiled back at him, obviously pleased with his choice.

"_Oh man, this is going to be a very trying year,_" he thought. The carriage started up and they began the trip to the castle. It was uneventful, to say the least, and soon they found themselves at the entrance to the castle. It was a dark, cloudy night but at the very least it had stopped raining for a little while. They entered the castle and went into the Great Hall, taking their seats at the Gryffindor table.

~*~*~*~

Harry took a seat, after slinging his bag off his chair and slipping into his seat. Hermione sat next to him, and Ron sat on the other side of the table. Ron looked a little peeved, though perhaps Harry was reading into his expression. Usually, Hermione sat next to Ron. Harry found Ron's possessiveness amusing, and couldn't help cracking a small smile, covering it up with his hand as he leaned his chin on it.

The Great Hall was decorated with the natural splendor of the new school year. Colored garland was strung from post to post, and the shimmering light of the candles danced off the walls in a silvery glow. The silverware gleamed, and for the first time since he'd woken up that day, Harry felt almost relieved and somewhat relaxed. He leaned into the wooden chair.

Suddenly, he felt as if eyes were boring into his mind. It was a paranoid feeling, and Harry turned his head from side to side, trying to figure out why he felt someone looking at him. Eventually, his eyes rested at the Slytherin table. But the only person he could think of to stare at him—namely Malfoy—was looking somewhere else. Harry watched him for a moment, and the feeling went away. However, Harry still felt unnerved. He was used to people staring at him, but this was a very odd feeling—a very odd feeling indeed.

"What's up, mate?" Ron asked, seeing him looking off into space. "You look a little preoccupied."

"Huh?" said Harry, looking back at Ron. "Oh, I thought I felt as if someone were looking at me. It was nothing."

"Oh," Ron replied, a little haughtily, and rolled his eyes. He returned to his conversation with Hermione. Ron seemed deeply involved with keeping Hermione's attention focused. Harry gave him a nasty look before crossing his arms and continuing to observe the Great Hall. It was far more interesting than Ron's attitude.

Or perhaps he could just be as horrible. He sat up a bit, and leaned in onto the table, looking at Hermione as she talked aptly with Ron. She laughed and turned to look at him. Harry gave her a small smile, and then asked her how Bulgaria was.

"It was lovely, for the time I was there," Hermione replied. "The mountains are gorgeous. And everything seems so surreal. The towns aren't big though, and there seemed to be little in historical monuments."

"Really?" Harry asked, trying to appear interested. He half glanced at Ron, who was trying to act as if this was all right to him. He listened attentively, and tried to mask his disappointment by cleaning his glasses.

"How was _your_ summer, Harry?" she asked warmly.

Harry's smile faded. "It wasn't one of the best, I have to say," he said slowly. "I really don't want to talk about it, if it's all the same to you."

She nodded, and looked a little worried. Hermione put a hand on his, squeezing it gently. "I understand, Harry."

__

No you don't, Harry's mind retorted. However, Harry remained silent, and clasped his hand over hers. "So," he said, breaking the short silence, and looked over to Ron, who was staring at their hands, "how was your summer with just the guys?" He smiled wryly, adding a nasty undertone to his question.

"It was fine," he replied stiffly. The room was buzzing with people, and then their fellow Gryffindors took the seats next to them. Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom came in, looking as rested and healthy as ever. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown saw next to them, giggling and spreading gossip like wildfire.

Harry, eyeing their looks, squeezed her hand one last time before he let her go, shifting so that he could lean down into his chair and sit comfortably until dinner was served, which was in about five minutes. Ron and Hermione began to talk to Dean and Seamus. Apparently, they each had brilliant summers.

He turned his head to the side and looked around the room. The teachers began to fill in themselves, with the first years trailing behind Professor McGonagall. It soon got quiet, and afterwards they were sorted quickly. Harry didn't notice any of the names, and to be perfectly frank, he didn't really care about the new first years. Once they were sorted, loud chatter erupted but was quickly silenced by Dumbledore, who then announced that dinner was served.

Food appeared on the table, and Harry felt his mood lift up. Finally, there was a normal schedule of food and sleep--he found this to be very comforting and immediately dug into the food.

"Whoa there, Harry," Seamus said, reaching for the same piece of chicken as Harry had, but Harry had managed to take the piece first. "You act like you didn't eat at all this summer."

Harry gave Seamus a look. "Well, to be perfectly _frank_, Seamus, I didn't." Then Harry returned to his meal, leaving Seamus to feel a bit bewildered. Then it dawned on him what Harry had said, as a look of realization crossed over his face. Seamus turned back to his own food, looking a little guilty; he knew of Harry's situation with his aunt and uncle.

It, however, shut the both of them up for a while.

~*~*~*~

The meal had finally ended, and Harry got up quickly. The seventh year Prefect decided that she would take over the overseeing of the people to the dormitories and presently led them out of the dining hall.

Harry walked at the back of the line, caught up in his own thoughts. He certainly didn't eat much after Seamus mentioned something. It made him feel guilty and paranoid. So, after Seamus had stupidly mentioned something, he just stopped eating as it was, and placed his hands on the table. His stomach protested but his pride was far too winning.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione said from his right side, walking along with him. "You seemed quiet at dinner, especially after Seamus talked to you."

"I just didn't feel much like talking, Hermione."

"Oh," she said quietly. She turned her head and stared straight ahead.

Harry suppressed a sigh. God, why was everyone so _fucking_ touchy today? "Sorry, Hermione. He made me feel embarrassed, that's all."

She smiled a little bit. "Seamus can do that. He's a very blunt little bastard at times."

Harry snorted, and covered his mouth. "Hermione," he said with a small smile. "That was mean."

She was grinning widely. "That was _funny_."

Ahead of them, Ron stopped and turned around. "Harry," he said, "before we go in, can I talk to you?" He looked at Hermione. "_Alone_," he added, pointedly.

"All right then," Hermione replied carefully. "I shall see the two of you later."

"Bye, Hermione," Ron said, and watched her go. Harry said nothing. He leaned against the wall, his black cloak wrapped around his tightly, and waited for Ron to started talking.

Hermione was clearly out of hearing distance before Ron even started. He made sure of that.

~*~*~*~

"Harry, what is going on?" Ron said suddenly, whipping his head around to face him.

"With what?" Harry replied coolly. He crossed his arms and waited for an answer.

Ron sighed and ran a hand through his red hair. "What is happening to our friendship?" he asked slowly. "We seem to not get along anymore. It's like you've changed--and I'm sorry to say this, it's for the worst."

"_I've_ changed?" Harry asked incredulously, raising his eyebrows. "Well, yes, I suppose so." Harry smiled inwardly. "_Ron decided to take it upon himself to fix me, huh? Like a fucking broken toy. Since when has he been the one to fix our friendship crisis? Where the hotheaded Ron that I knew last year? Because he certainly isn't one now._" "But you have as well," he added, out loud.

Ron frowned. "Not like you have. You're…" he seemed to be searching for the right words. "You're very angry, Harry. I don't want to see you hurt anyone."

Suddenly, Harry started blinking rapidly, getting a little pissed at what Ron was saying. Since when has _he_ been the fucking saint?

"Excuse me?" Harry said, in disbelief, with a jump in his voice; his "anger" was starting to show again.

"You have repressed something, Harry. You're constantly angry, and even Dean and Seamus noticed." He shifted uncomfortably where he stood.

"_The fucking messenger boy. Lovely,_" Harry thought. "Look, Ron," Harry started, "I know. I know I've changed. But perhaps you don't _get_ it. Ron, if you took the time to think about it--and see how much better you have it--and think about last summer, then maybe you could start to understand. But you don't know _anything_ Ron. You just stand there and tell me that you think I've changed--how dense _are _you?"

Ron opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. "I'm sorry if I didn't pay attention to the great Harry Potter over the summer. Jesus, Harry, don't you think you're being a tad bigheaded about this?" he replied, waving his arms widely in exaggeration.

"You know what," Harry started, turned and walking away backwards, pointing at him. "Fuck you Ron. I don't need this." He turned around and stormed down the hallway, leaving Ron to his bewildered thoughts.

"_How the fuck did he dare say that I'm the one who has the goddamn problem?!_" Harry thought angrily, as he clenched his fists. "_God damn it, I thought he'd perhaps understand, but now I know that he can't. Not to mention, he's jealous about Hermione. What an asshole, making me out to be the bad guy. What, does he hope that Hermione'll have enough sense to leave me for him? Even _she's_ not that desperate..._" Harry stopped and leaned against the wall. He sunk to the floor and sat there, musing in his frustrated thoughts. "I wish I could have someone to talk to," he said out loud, before burying his head in his arms, his shoulders shaking slightly.

Apparently, Harry thought dismally, he didn't. Not anymore.


End file.
